Vanessa seized Bella Coren by the arm with lightning reflexivity, yanking her backward. Lostya stumbled two desperate steps in retreat, her eyes widening in terror as the trident plunged toward her unprotected face—her magic still beyond reach. The knight who had already prepared his great arbalest squeezed the trigger with instinctive precision; the heavy bolt tore across the gargoyle's arm, shearing away a cascade of stone fragments. The demon's weapon froze in mid-descent. It cocked its head at an unnatural angle, examining the wound with detached curiosity. "Your little bolt provides such unexpected entertainment," it observed, its smile reminiscent of an abattoir master surveying his domain. "I think I shall return the favor by riddling your flesh with a thousand holes of its own. A token of my... gratitude."

  The newly arrived contingent of heavily armored knights swiftly raised their massive arbalests in unison, every quarrel trained upon the demon. "Hold your fire," commanded the black-haired sorceress, clutching her mantle tightly around her shoulders. "Sir Lunedale." Her voice sliced toward Gil with accusatory precision. "By what authority did you summon additional forces without consultation?"

  Gil Assimo's talent for interpreting human expressions was notoriously deficient; he mistook her severe censure for oblique commendation. "I observed your deliberate engagement with their witch and recognized your tactical stratagem to create temporal advantage. Accordingly, I dispatched messengers to secure reinforcements—each man equipped with a heavy arbalest." His expression radiated self-satisfaction. "My strategic acumen serves us well, wouldn't you agree, Lostya..."

  "That wasn't clever," she cut him off, her voice like ice. "It was an act of profound stupidity." The Reiss Daemon transferred its trident to its left hand with casual menace, yet confronted with dozens of loaded weapons tracking its every movement, it maintained a calculated stillness—watching intently for Lostya's subsequent action. "Reinforcements were never part of my design, Sir Lunedale. Had I desired military support, I would have personally orchestrated its arrival. Your presumptuous cleverness serves nothing."

  "But..." Despite his elevated position on horseback, the knight appeared to diminish visibly. "Without such measures, that demon remains beyond our capacity to subdue..."

  "Combat with that entity is unnecessary. Nor must we engage the Cynthian witches in hostilities."

  "What hidden machinations guide your actions?" Bella Coren challenged, utterly confounded by the Imperial sorceress's behavior. "Whatever game you're playing, know this: you will not fool us."

  "You wish to comprehend my intentions?" Lostya shifted her gaze toward Bella, meeting her scrutiny with unflinching resolve. "Then observe carefully. Sir Lunedale!" Her command cracked through the air with whip-like authority. "Gather your forces and withdraw immediately."

  The knight appeared momentarily disoriented, as though questioning his auditory faculties. "You presume to issue directives to me?" The sorceress answered with pointed silence.

  "The underground passage is compromised!" Dean Evelyn of Doranar announced as she hurried into view. "I've spent considerable time locating the activation mechanism only to discover it's irreparably damaged! I cannot conceive of alternative—" Her words faltered as she absorbed the tableau before her. The oppressive metallic scent of spilled blood threatened to overwhelm her respiratory functions. "What... transpires here?" Her gaze shifted rapidly between Bella and Vanessa, then toward the demon, finally settling upon the Imperial cavalry with unmistakable revulsion.

  "You possess neither the authority to command my retreat nor any jurisdiction whatsoever over my operations, my lady," Sir Lunedale declared, masculine pride hardening his intonation. "I execute the explicit directives of the Marquess of Brennoria to secure this fortification. Your interference exceeds your prerogative."

  "Then allow me to correct you," the sorceress said, her voice dropping to a dangerous calm. "I am here on the authority of Raveirmom Dear, Duke of Actins. And my orders concern all matters at this academy." She deliberately enunciated the duke's complete name and title, calculating the psychological impact of such formality. In practical terms, as supreme military commander, Raveirmom's directives were considered inviolable.

  "But..." The mere invocation of such an illustrious name and title sufficed to pulverize Sir Lunedale's arrogance into dust. "Did you not previously indicate..."

  "I acknowledged my arrival stemmed from personal initiative," she replied with undisguised mockery. "But surely your reasoning capacity extends beyond assuming I would venture to this location without ducal authorization? Your military service should have instilled superior discernment. You possess sufficient information to evaluate the veracity of my assertion. Do not permit momentary bravado to compromise your judgment, sir. You comprehend perfectly the consequences of contravening direct orders—particularly those originating from the commander-in-chief."

  "What precisely transpires?" Evelyn maneuvered closer, whispering urgently as though fearful of disrupting the precarious negotiation between Lostya and Sir Lunedale.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "One minute the Imperial soldiers are here to kill us. The next, one of their own sorceresses shows up and tries to send them away, offering us a way out. I can't make sense of it."

  "The subterranean route remains inaccessible?"

  Evelyn responded with a despondent shake of her head.

  "Then our sole remaining egress is through those primary doors," Bella observed, her tone drained of all vitality. "If this sorceress successfully persuades them to withdraw, we benefit considerably. However, I cannot determine whether her assistance represents genuine altruism or merely advances some elaborate personal agenda. Prudence dictates preparation for the worst-case scenario."

  "Can it effectively neutralize such a significant military force?" Evelyn gestured toward the wounded gargoyle with apprehension.

  "I cannot provide definitive assessment, Evelyn. My cognitive faculties approach their limit—divine mercy."

  "Perhaps... we should consider portal conjuration."

  "Destination proposals?" Dean Vanessa of Moslander extended her hands in exasperation. "Liesnite or Phyal? Such distances render the proposition entirely unfeasible."

  "Perhaps our objective need not involve immediate transportation to final destinations—merely—"

  "I comprehend your suggestion, Evelyn. I've already contemplated that approach—relocating students beyond the immediate confines of the fortress, then subsequently devising exodus from Pafaheim. However, insurmountable practical obstacles remain. From what reservoir would we extract sufficient Source energy to manifest a large-scale portal? The Resonance Hex and Shaping spell I recently deployed drew exclusively from my personal implement rather than Pafaheim's Primal Source. The local Primal Source appears severely depleted following the Asiro Barrier's activation and cannot sustain significant extraction within the immediate timeframe. And even if we could find the Source for it, who among us could open a portal big enough for a hundred students? And that's not even counting the ones who are too frail or sick to survive the passage."

  "So—we confront impossibility."

  "It would appear so." To Bella's discerning perception, Evelyn suddenly seemed diminished, her vulnerability more pronounced than ever before.

  When anxiety seized Sir Lunedale, his habitual response involved unconsciously grasping at the antlered protrusions of his helmet, as though attempting to physically extract inspiration from his cranium. "I... I must secure this installation!" His voice approached lamentation. "It represents an ideal strategic position for our forces—a critical forward operating base against Triumphant Fort!"

  "My intention has never involved permanently preventing your acquisition—merely delaying it temporarily." Despite her parched oral cavity and the unsettling awareness of the demon's gaze upon her posterior, she continued. "Return with your forces at tomorrow's dawn, and you shall encounter an unoccupied structure."

  "Dawn?" His grip threatened structural integrity of the antler. "You propose granting these spellcasters an entire night to effect their escape?"

  "I consider it the optimal resolution. You acquire the fortification without casualties. What possible objection could you raise?"

  "I have already sacrificed numerous subordinates, my lady," Gil reminded her pointedly.

  "Then prevent further unnecessary bloodshed."

  "Direct your attention toward that pool!" He gestured emphatically, prompting the gargoyle to adjust its head inquisitively. "Those remains belonged to our compatriots! Yet you advocate our withdrawal like craven cowards? I categorically refuse to—"

  "Do you explicitly intend to contravene Raveirmom Dear's direct command?" she interrupted with devastating directness.

  "I possess no firsthand knowledge regarding ducal instructions. My comprehension extends only to the marquess's requirement that I—" The witch interrupted his protestation for a second time: "The Duke of Actins has delegated complete authority to me regarding this installation. Within this specific context, my directives carry the full weight of ducal mandate. Is this concept sufficiently clear, Sir Lunedale?"

  Gil Assimo swallowed visibly, suppressing his resentment. "Lostya!" he exclaimed, desperation driving him to the impropriety of addressing her by given name. "Our arbalesters have proven effective! You witnessed their capacity to inflict damage upon that accursed demon!"

  "And you truly believe," Lostya Huggins asked, a slow, cold smile spreading across her lips, "...that he is the only one?" The knight's facial features elongated dramatically as his complexion blanched to a limestone pallor. "Never underestimate magical practitioners. Not under any circumstances."

  "Do we actually possess additional gargoyles?" Evelyn inquired, discomfort evident in her expression.

  "She's lying," Bella said flatly. "About the gargoyles, and about her orders. She came here on her own. She might be able to fool that idiot knight, but she's not fooling me."

  Lostya elevated her chin imperiously, hands positioned strategically beneath her mantle, awaiting Sir Lunedale's ultimate decision with calculated patience. "Can you provide absolute assurance?" he finally articulated. "That Cynthia's witches command additional... supernatural entities beyond this singular demon?"

  "I provide such assurance without qualification."

  "Can you... guarantee their complete evacuation from this fortification by tomorrow's dawn?"

  "I offer that guarantee with complete confidence."

  "Finally," he declared, nostrils flaring dramatically as he inhaled deeply, "can you swear with absolute certainty that Duke Dear personally dispatched you to this location and invested you with command authority?"

  "I affirm this without reservation."

  "Very well." His helmet's antlers bobbed in synchronization with his reluctant nod of acquiescence. "We shall withdraw." He signaled his subordinates with a decisive hand gesture. "Should your statements prove deliberately deceptive, my lady, expect the most severe consequences imaginable. Commit this warning to memory. Remember it well." He departed the courtyard last among his company, directing a final glare of unmitigated hatred toward the Reiss Daemon as he retreated.